Until we meet again
by Lady Pixel
Summary: Alone and lost in another body, Elissa is trapped. Without the aid of her friends, Elissa is left to decrypt what happend on Fort Drakon. The only thing she knows, is that she should be dead...and the Archdemon may still be free.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: Sorry...noticed breaks where I changed character vanished when I uploaded. Just trying it again.

She never thought for a moment she could bring the Archdemon down. Yet, here it was, its glistening dark hide mottled with blood and raw wounds oozing onto the cracked stone floor. It stumbled for a moment, its ear piercing screech causing her to wince as it toppled forward and smashed into the ground with the mightiest crash. The ground shook around her, knocking down both man and darkspawn. In the momentary confusion her sword slipped out of her grasp and scattered way. No matter. She had prepared herself over the last hour – or had it been more – that she would have to be the one to kill the Archdemon. For that reason alone, she was glad Alistair was stuck at the front gates. This was something the new King need not see. She took her last few seconds to take in her world, smelling the overwhelming smoke and the sickening sweet blood had coagulated and pooled all Demerim. The deafening crescendo of screaming, clashing, the ghoulish cackles from darkspawn. Fallen men who still lay twitching, gurgling coming up from their throats. The thwack of arrows and the whistling as they flew towards the dying Archdemon. She drew in her last breath with burning lungs. Her heart thundered with powerful thuds under her armour, just ready to fight its way into her throat. She wished she could hug Alistair goodbye. She wished she would live, for that moment, that she would wed Alistair. There was no more time to waste. With a last minute grab of a sword from another body, screaming one last war cry before she left. Her fingers throbbed as she tightened her grip on the sword. Her fingers throbbed as she tightened her grip on the sword. The thickness of the Archdemon's skull jolted her as the sword plunged down and was enough to shock her before the sheer pain of the explosion hit her. It was a hot, stinging, searing pain, much worse than touching the hot coals of the oven back in Highever. It was time to meet Nan and her family again. She wanted to scream, yet instead she was powerless, limbless. She felt as if she was being ripped from her body, and with reluctance, she realised she probably was. She felt - no, saw - her knee's crumble, her body fold over the Archdemon. She had to get away. Instead she felt herself float backwards. A sudden tower of light erupted over the Archdemon, its body melting away in the light. Her body slowly rolled off the Archdemon, eyes staring directly to the sky above. She felt herself, or perhaps her soul, slowly, begin to be ripped apart. With a silent scream she willed, or perhaps begged to the Maker that this would not be the end. It was then, everything became so burning hot that she could see nothing but white. She felt hands, many cold hands, hold her steady, pulling her away. Beyond the white she could almost make out a face...dark hair on white skin. Then with almost a crackle, she felt herself be fired down, down towards the ground. She was powerless to move, let alone look towards the faces. Then it was black.

Slowly the buzz of the crowd awoke her. It was deafening, cheering and yelling. Darkspawn screaming as they tore out of the city. Clumsy hands felt a hot pulsing pain on her temple. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Soldiers feet clambered around her, armoured boots looking more blackish red than the usual tan or metal colouring. Her vision was still blurred, limited to what was directly around her head, which was resting in the mud of the ground. She spat out the contents of her mouth, mostly filled with a mixture of blood and dirt from the ground. It tasted foul, unfamiliar. "This one is alive! Maker! I was sure she was done for!" The voice came from directly above her. Unfortunately, her eyes refused to let her see that far. Instead, she saw a blur of colours that hurt her eyes.  
>"Maker! She is too! That Ogre tossed her around like a rag doll, I was sure she had been crushed to pulp." Whomever they were, they probably were young soldiers, potentially from Redcliff.<br>Two hands grabbed her under the arms, heaving her to her feet. The sudden move made the bile rise to her throat, gagging her. The vile smoke and blood caused her to retch again as the two men half helped her walk,  
>"Take it easy miss...the Darkspawn must have taken you for dead. There is no other way you would have survived here."<br>_'Survived?' _She thought for a second, the realisation hitting her hard in the stomach.  
>"I should be dead!" She blurted. With a bruised jaw, the words were slurred, barely recognisable.<br>"Damn right you should be!" The solider chuckled, evidently understanding her mangled speech. "You probably would be if it wasn't for the Wardens. They did a fine job at the top of Fort Drakon tonight."  
>"I...wouldn't know." She choked. Her eyesight was slowly returning. Amidst the fuzzy shapes, she should see the crudely erected tents they had set up. Evidently, he was taking her to field medics or the remaining mages who could heal. It was then; she looked into one of the remaining buildings which still stood tall. Its one pane of glass made her heart freeze. Chin length, deep brunette hair should be staring back at her. She should have dark hair, blue eyes and lips that were always slightly too thin for her liking. Neither her eyes nor the window would share the colour of her eyes today, but instead a completely different face stared back at her. A pale, thin figure with fiery red hair stared back in the reflection, looking incredibly bewildered. She had no time to linger, the soldiers mostly carrying her to the healers tents.<br>_'I don't know what has happened.' _She admitted to herself. '_Why am I in the Marketplace, when I should be on top of Fort Drakon? What has happened to my body? If I'm still alive...where is the Archdemon?'  
><em>"Here we are miss...settle down on this stretcher. One of the mages will see to you soon."  
>She half crumpled, half fell into the hard stretcher.<br>"Thank-you."  
>"We found this one in one of the Alleyways. Thank the Maker...she had been tossed and crushed by and Ogre! I don't think most people would have been able to survive that!"<br>"Thank you Men" A familiar voice soothed. "I'll be sure to take good care of her."  
><em>'Wynne?' She thought. 'She must have come down from the Fort to help heal the injured. Dear Wynne could tell me what is going on.' <em> She forced herself into a sitting position with a grunt, taking a deep breath and looking towards the sound of the voice. Where most mages around her seemed to look tired, covered in blood yet bright and cheerful, Wynne looked like her world had just been crushed.  
>"You look so sad" Elissa commented quietly. "Yet everyone seems so happy."<br>"It is a day of mixed blessings I am afraid." Wynne spoke quietly. "We have defeated a great enemy and saved Ferelden from the blight. Yet at the same time, we have lost the woman who saved us all."  
>Elissa froze, feeling the remaining colour drain out of her face.<br>"You mean...you have a body? Are you sure the Grey Warden died?" Elissa asked softly. "Is there any other way something could have happened?"  
>"No. I saw her fall myself." Wynne said sadly. She placed her hand on her temple, the warm fuzziness muting much of the pain in her face. "Her body is being carried down by King Alistair himself. She gave her life to bring the Archdemon down."<br>"Oh no..." Elissa said quietly. '_Something is wrong.' _She thought '_Hideously, horribly, wrong.'  
><em>"But for now, miss, you need to rest, and I need to keep healing."_  
><em>"Thank-you again, Wynne." Elissa whispered. Wynne stared her.

"Excuse me?" She looked surprised "But how did you know my name?"  
>"I've met you before" Elissa admitted. "Although it almost feels like another lifetime ago."<br>"You must mean Ostagar." Wynne sighed. "yes, it does feel like another lifetime ago. Until we meet again."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, her body won't burn!" Alistair demanded. His eyes still burnt red from days of tears. His white silk pillows were soaked from where he had been lying face down for every possible minute of the day.<br>"I'm sorry, Alistair." Wynne soothed. "But her cremation...her body refuses to be burnt. Not a single hair singed and she has been in flames for three days straight. "I am sure it is magic in play, but I cannot tell you what it is. I would suggest we entomb her body for now. Perhaps Weisshaupt will have answers for you." Wynne straightened his sheets, something he could imagine a mother doing. Slowly she walked around his room, side stepping his red and gold robes scattered all over the ground and straightening the vellum on his mahogany desk. She traced over the engravings for a moment, appreciating the griffons scraped into the desk.  
>Alistair sighed, his shoulders slumping down. The castle in Demerim was colder than it should have been, considering the heat from the still smouldering city outside. The entire castle still stunk of darkspawn and smoke, but the heat failed to transfer in. Or maybe it was just him. The pain of losing her made every cockle of his heart bitter cold, so why wouldn't the castle feel cold too? Besides, her body was the last thing that surprised him. She was always full of surprises. Like leaving him at Denerim's gates. He stared at the gold armour laid out for him. It looked like Cailans.<br>"I promised Fergus that her remains would be sent to Highever first, for those who knew her to pay their respects. I am planning to leave directly after the Coronation celebrations."  
>"I see." Wynne said softly. "I will remain here, for now, as an advisor to Eamon in your absence."<br>Alistair nodded, looking around his room. He hadn't left his room much since he had returned from her funeral. There was a good chance, if he left his room, he would run into another noble ready to fling his daughters at him. Unfortunately, most of the noble's seemed unaware that he just lost the love of his life. Truthfully, he doubted they would act any different even if they did know.  
>"Maybe the sun in Highever will do you some good." Wynne smiled. "Either way, mister, if you don't hurry up and get dressed, you will be late for your own Coronation."<br>"Yeah." Alistair mumbled. "That."

* * *

><p>Finally, she was well. Quickly, she tumbled her hair into a pony tail, strapping on the cheap leather armour she was found in. For the past three days, she had been taken in by the Chantry. Her skin had felt like it was burning and before she knew it, she had collapsed in the street, writhing in pain. Three days, she could barely move. She felt like she was suffocating, burning, wheezing and inhaling smoke. Only she wasn't in fire. She was in the Chantry, cold cloths applied to her face. Thrice a day, someone would come to tell her about Andraste and the Maker. She knew, then, they expected her to die. Still, just as abruptly as it started, it stopped. She paid her respects to the Chantry and before she knew it, she was out again, her mysterious illness and fever all but vanished.<br>Slowly, she enjoyed the smell of the fresh air. The rancid smoke and death still lingered, but for now it was better than the smell of her own sweat and hot breath inside the Chantry. She closed her eyes, listening to the hub-up of the clean-up.  
>"Did you hear about the Warden Commander? They say her body has been in the furnace for three days and even the mages can't make it burn!"<br>"What?" She demanded suddenly, turning towards the gossip. The gossip, an elderly laundry woman looked up.  
>"Everyone is talking about it! They tried to cremate her before they took her to Highever, but her body just won't burn."<br>Elissa stood there for a moment, stunned. '_I wasn't I'll for the last three days' _She realised slowly. _'I was burning...quite literally.' _  
>"Where is the crematorium?" She asked suddenly.<br>"I suppose her body would be in the Royal Crematorium...behind the castle. I wouldn't think they would let you see her. If you have the coin, I would suggest you wait until she is on display in Highever...hey miss, where are you going!" The woman demanded. But Elissa wouldn't listen.  
>'If I cannot have my own body' She thought, her emerald eyes set in determination. 'Then I will have what is mine.'<p>

Whomever owned the body before her, thankfully was a fit woman. It felt wrong however as she ran, muscles that she never noticed would ache as she ran along the paths, jumping small crumbling walls to make her way behind the Palace. She hadn't had time to work out why she was in possession of another body, but Maker she needed help. She had scored the city looking for a familiar face. Unfortunately, none of her friends were to be found. Her only hope was to sneak into the Palace and find someone who would believe her, perhaps Wynne or Leliana. But before the Coronation, she could see no obvious way into the castle. Perhaps she should wait until the Coronation and try to flag Alistair down. Not that he would have clue who she was. She sighed softly. She missed him so badly. Would he even believe her if he found her?

Finally, she reached a short building with dark, acrid smoke billowing from the chimney. Two rose bushes grew up the side of the building. With a smirk, she quickly picked several red and white roses before opening the door. Straightening herself up, she marched directly in. Two burly guards stood at one stone box, arms folded. The other boxes, no doubt holding other deceased nobles .  
>"I take you are guarding the Warden Commander?" She asked, staring them in the eyes.<br>"Hey! What are you doing in here? We were ordered not to let anyone in!" The first grunted at her. "Go on! Get out of here!" Elissa gave him a quick smile.  
>"Don't be ridiculous. I was sent by King Alistair. He has requested that his love has fresh flowers before she is sent to Highever. "She insisted, motioning to the bouquet.<br>"Nobody ever said anything like that to us!" The second muttered.  
>"Well, I can't personally see the harm in giving her fresh flowers. I wouldn't be too impressed if I was the king and found her with rotting flowers. Wouldn't look very fitting for a deceased nobility to be presented with dead flowers, would it?"<br>"I...uh...suppose so" The first guard muttered. "I...let me help you with the lid." Slowly, they pulled the heavy stone stab down to reveal the top of the Warden Commander. Elissa drew in her breath. It was eerie...much like staring into the mirror. Only this time, she was aware, she looked nothing like herself.  
>"It's odd isn't it." The first guard muttered. "Downright creepy. Her body refuses to decompose, let alone burn. Her skin is even still warm." Elissa shuddered. Her first instinct was right. Held between two clasped hands was the rose Alistair had picked in Lothering. Just like her, it had refused to whither.<br>"She just looks...asleep" She fumbled, taking the rose out of her own hands. "Just...like her soul has left before her body died."  
>"Something like that." The guard shuddered as Elissa swapped the roses over. "See...not even that rose has withered yet. There's some dark magic involved, I tell you..."<br>"Something like that." Elissa repeated, her mouth open as the guards pushed the stone slab back over. "Someone must have known some dark magic to pull that off...but who?"

* * *

><p>The crowd had erupted in the loudest cheering he could even imagine. Alistair waved, dumbfounded. He felt empty suddenly, alone. He glanced next to him, willing himself see Elissa at his side. Unfortunately, there was no-one. He was alone. Again. Every face seemed delighted with him, reaching out to touch him. He braved a fake smile, scanning the crowd. He stopped. There was one face, foreign and unfamiliar. She wasn't cheering like the others, in fact, she seemed downright upset. Or was it angry? She met his eye contact, piercing his. He felt his heart flip in his chest. She was leaning against a half destroyed wall, her arms folded at her chest. Her hair stood out, a deep fire even darker than Leliana's deep red mop. His eyes fell to what she was clutching in her hand. A single red rose. Still, she met his gaze. Was she crying? He couldn't be sure. Slowly, she raised the rose to her lips, closing her eyes and smelling it. Just like Elissa used to. He felt his muscles freeze. Why did she remind him of her? She mouthed something to him. What was it? Eamon pulled him along as he got one last glance. She turned and walked off, two swords strapped to the back of her leather armour.<p>

"I miss you."

But why on Thedas would she mouth that?


	2. Chapter 2

_She was dressed in the blackest black, almost ignoring the other women dressed to the finery. It was simple to the point of bringing unnatural amount of attention to her. Her hair was fiery red and her eyes piercing green. He was certain now, before the Coronation, he had never seen her before in his life. She seemed oblivious to this, her red hair swept up out of her face with nothing but a rose adorning her curls at the back of her head. She kept his gaze with fury, her arms folded tightly over her chest. If he didn't know better, he would say she looked furious he was dancing with another woman. But why? Finally, he broke his dance with the blonde woman he had been dancing with. Slowly, he approached her. There was something fascinating about the way she smirked at him when he approached. Something hideously familiar that seemed so obvious he couldn't quite work out what it was. The other dancing couples seemed to blur around her as she jutted her chin forward. She didn't curtsey like the other women, but unfolded her arms and gave him a brisk, refreshing nod.  
>"Hello" She said plainly. "Long time no see, Alistair" she almost whispered. So that explained it – he HAD known her before. But where?<br>"I...uh, seemed to have forgotten your name." He admitted "I was never too good with names." For a moment there, he saw her eyebrows furrow and heard her swear under her breath.  
>"I have to go." She muttered, stepping away from him.<br>"Wait!" Alistair called. "You didn't tell me your name? Am I going to see you again ...you're so familiar.." The red-head glanced towards Fergus then bit her lip.  
>"I hope so Alistair" she whispered. "I miss you."<br>Then she was gone, taking off into the crowd. He stood there, dumbfounded. He knew he had missed something...but what? _

"Your Highness! We have arrived" A booming voice shook him out of his slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at his messenger.  
>"Huh...what?" His messenger didn't seem perplexed. Instead, he calmly responded like he had expected Alistair's confusion.<br>"In Highever. You have slept most of the carriage ride here. We are about to carry the Commander's remains into the hall of Highever."  
>"Right. I will march with them. I take Fergus has reinstated his control over the castle?"<br>"Indeed."

* * *

><p>Eventually, Elissa found herself in Highever. With a strand of red hair tucked behind her ear, she sighed, slipping into the hogs head, one of the lowest taverns. She had been picking pockets in Demerim and made her retreat with a modest picking. At least, enough to fill her belly and catch a ride to Highever with a Merchant tailing after the Royal Procession. The tavern was just how she remembered it. She used to sneak out long after dark as a teenager and besot herself with their local brew, back in the day.<p>

Somehow, by some mystical stroke of luck Highever had taken very little damage from the blight. The damage that had been done, however, was done by Howe. Sighing, she sat down at the bar and smiled briefly at the bartender, passing him a bronze coin.  
>"An ale, please." Closing her eyes, she listened to the hubbub of the tavern.<br>"Did you hear about the larder here? Apparently it's infested with rats. Those big ones from the Kocari Wilds." Elissa smiled softly. Oh how she missed her hound.  
>"Bartender?" She began. "Any new s around here?"<br>" Aye, the Teryn is returning all levies and taxes to what they were before Howe took over. That'll be a relief on our pockets for sure!"  
>'<em>The Teryn?' <em>Elissa thought. She bit her lip, glaring into her ale. '_Who dares to be called Teryn...of my lands!' _Elissa glared, flexing one of her hands. _  
><em>"How could anyone call themselves Teryn over Highever after what has happened here?" Elissa demanded. The bartender shrugged.  
>"After Howe, who could complain about the King instating him as Teryn?" The bartender asked, if not innocently. Still, Elissa stood slowly, her fists tight.<br>"Thanks bartender." Elissa muttered, turning to head out the tavern. Elissa could feel the heat of blood in her ears, her heart pumping in her chest. She took deep breaths, trying to let the fresh sea air of Highever cool her temper. She took in a big breath, blowing it out softly.  
><em>'Get a grip with yourself! It's hardly likely I'll ever be able to be Ternya here...Especially now I look nothing like myself. Alistair, even if he knew what was going on, would hardly be able to explain away why I look nothing like Lady Cousland.'<em> Elissa closed her eyes, drawing in a long, slow breath. Slowly, she opened them, looking up towards the hill and the castle of Highever. Her **home**. If there was anyone left alive to watch over Highever, then it was **her. **With a stab of guilt, she found herself jogging towards the castle. '_I wonder if Ser Gilmore made it?' _She quietly wondered. _'Or if my family's possessions are still there.' _

The gates were swarmed on her arrival of the castle, hundreds upon hundreds of men and woman waiting to be let in. An unfamiliar set of guards stood post outside.  
>"You will have to wait until the Teryn and the King have set a time for viewing the remains of the Hero Ferelden. Please go back to your homes, and await official notice!"<p>

Elissa paused, watching the men and woman complain and keep the guards distracted. She glanced towards the servant's entrance, a slow smirk crossing onto her face. It seemed, the last way out of the castle...would be her first way in. Slowly, she slipped into the shadows, taking care to remain unnoticed. The servants seemed to be preparing for something...perhaps a banquet for the king? Pausing, she disarmed both of her swords. She had a small dagger to hide in her leathers, but two swords would stand out like darkspawn in a crowd of people. She paused for a moment, reflecting on the last time she left Highever in a hurry. The last time she was **home. **Then she saw it: a freshly delivered set of pork bits. There was no doubt where these were going: the kennels. Without thinking twice, she picked up the pork bits and calmly slipped into the servant's entrance. The corridor was just as she remembered, leading into the kitchen. She stopped for brief moment to breath in, taking in the smells. It smelt nothing like Nan's cooking, and the elves working were unrecognisable. Evidently, the elves who had entertained her as she bickered with Nan, hadn't made it either.  
>"Oi! You! What are you doing with those pork bits!" The cook cried out. Elissa froze for a second before calmly turning to face the cook.<br>"Direct orders from Farmer Geoffories Ma'am." She gave her a curt nod. "He wants them delivered directly to the kennels from now on. Said if they were for the King to eat he wanted to charge double!" With a determined step forward, she headed for the corridor that would lead her further into the castle.  
>"Oh that bastard Geoffories" The cook grunted. "He knows better than that! When I see him next...I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! Feed pork bits to the King indeed!" The cook raved on.<p>

Elissa chuckled quietly, heading into the stone corridors. Significant repairs had been made on the castle, some areas of the castle repaired with odds and ends of stonework. However none of the tapestry or portraits felt familiar. Slowly, she felt her heart sink. Howe would have destroyed anything that looked like it belonged to her family. Would he have left the portraits of her mother and father? Every Cousland had their turn to be displayed in the hall. Her stomach lunched for a moment. She strode towards the hall, her mind stopping at a standstill. Anything to see her mother and father again, painting or not. She stopped at the door, then with a sudden burst of determination, pushed the door open and charged straight in. Opposite her, on the wall, was a picture of her father.  
>"Father..." she whispered under her breath.<br>"I had strict orders not to let anyone into the hall!" A familiar voice barked. "I suggest you leave at once!" Elissa froze for a second, her grip on the crate loosened. With a sickening crack, Elissa narrowly avoided crushing her foot with the splintered wood. The pork bits scattered over the floor, catching the attention of a hound at the Teryn's feet. Her eyes met the voice. Familiar and dark hair and eyes met hers. There was no humour in his voice, no cheery joke, but the face was unmistakable.  
>"Fergus!" Elissa cried, stunned. "I was sure you died at Ostagar!" Fergus, however, seemed neither surprised nor recognised her. At his feet lay a Mabari Hound...no, <strong>her, <strong>hound, curled up at his feet, eyes fixated on the pork bits. Evidently, he didn't notice her either.  
>"Who are you then? A soldier from Ostagar? No, I didn't die at Ostagar. I fell during a darkspawn attack in the wilds and was nursed back to health by the Chasinds. Still that does not explain what you are doing here." Fergus frowned. "I wished to be undisturbed, saying my farewells to my sister, Lady Cousland. Now if you could pick up your –"<br>Elissa sucked in her breath. There she was again. Right in the middle of the room...her dead self, lying dead, meters away from her. Her skin was still pale and slightly bruised from a connecting blow from an Ogre. Her lips were still unnaturally pink. There was no reek of death. Elissa felt her stomach churn. If she was really dead, she should be rotting by now. Something was going on, and it was beginning to look a lot like blood magic. She wouldn't be surprised if the Chantry took the body for investigation...her body.  
>"Fergus, that's not who you think she is..." She blurted. "Your little sister is still alive." Her voice shook, regret haunting her the more she spoke.<p>

'_Oh Maker...I should have kept my mouth shut.' _She took in a shaky breath, suddenly deciding that now make a good time to escape.  
>"What are you talking about!" Fergus demanded. She saw the red rise in his face. Oh maker, she was making him mad. Fergus, while mad, was the hardest person to calm down. Family trait, She supposed.<br>"I... Her body is only kept alive by blood magic, Fergus...I know where...Elissa is." She sucked in her breath. Fergus looked fuming now.  
>"She is dead, plain to see! How dare you come into my home and insist my sister is still alive, when her dead body is right in front of me! I don't know what ideas you have, but you're seeming rather thick even for a delivery woman!"<br>Elissa scowled at him for a second, her arms crossing at her chest.  
>"How <strong>DARE<strong> you call me thick, Fergus Cousland!" She bellowed. She took deep long breaths, striding ahead to stand in front of Fergus. "Can you not see the body is in perfect condition? The battle was over a week ago now!" She yelled. "She should be rotting away, with maggots covering her face by now!" She yelled. "You're a soldier, you should know that, unless you are rather thick between your ears!"

Fergus had turned bright red by now. The guards slammed most of the doors open, looking surprised to see the red head bellowing directly at the Teryn.  
>"I would not call the Teryn of Highever <strong>thick<strong>, you lowly wench! You have no right to call me by name." Fergus retorted. "I will have you escorted to the dungeons!"  
>"Oh no, you will not!" Elissa yelled back. Before she had control of herself, the palm of her hand connected with the side of Fergus's face. "I have every right to call my brother by name." She hissed. "I was the one who hunted Howe down and stripped him of his dignity before slitting his throat, you do not have any idea!"<br>The Mabari sat up straighter then, his oversized head cocked to one side.  
>"Apprehend her!" Fergus all but screamed. "Do not, ever, think you can come in here and try to be my sister's imposter. You know nothing! She looked nothing like you! No." He shook his head furiously. "The King will be here soon. He shouldn't have to see the likes of her. I sentence her to death for being an imposter of my late sister."<br>The hound stood up then, baring his teeth.  
>"You wouldn't dare." She hissed. "Father would be ashamed of such a sentence, Fergus."<br>"Even her hound knows the difference." He shook his head. "I could not see any woman in the right mind to waltz in here, stand next to my sister's body and still act as her imposter. You have lost your wits during the blight for sure. Dispose of her now, Ser Gilmore." He shook his head.  
>She drew the small dagger she had, her heart beating furiously, the same moment Ser Gilmore drew his sword. Out of the corner her eye, she saw the hound bark, charging himself forward.<br>_'Oh Maker, not him.'_ She thought. 'Don't make me hurt him...' she prayed silently_. 'Not my hound.'_ She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact of the hound and his teeth. _'What a cruel choice to make...my hound or my life.' _

* * *

><p>Alistair shook his head, burying his face into his hands. Alistair had retired into Fergus' old chambers. Which meant, naturally, Elissa's old room would have been opposite to his. Fergus had warned the room were no longer the same, and any old possession of Elissa would have been long gone, burnt outside behind the old chapel.<p>

News travelled quickly in Highever, that Alistair learnt the hard way. Rumour had it, an imposter had challenged Fergus to believe that Elissa was still alive...just in another's body. It was hard to believe even after all Alistair had seen in his short life. A tear rolled down his face. Hastily, he rubbed it away. Morrigan would have laughed at his tears. He could imagine her shrill voice as if she was with him.

_' 'tis all your fault, you know. I did offer you a way out...'  
><em>  
>Alistair sighed. If he had known it would be her to take the final blow...maybe things would be different. He should have taken the swamp witch's way out, no matter the price.<p>

Even his dreams haunted him. He had stopped dreaming about the Archdemon, or darkspawn for that matter. He prayed to the maker for dreams of her. Even to feel her as she hugged him after a long day. To smell the wood smoke in her hair again. To hear nod and smile, talking her friends through their problems. He regretted not listening to her problems now. It wasn't that he wouldn't listen... she just never brought them up. There was no time to listen to any of her stories anymore. There were no dreams of her. Just dreams of that odd woman he saw in Demerim with the rose.

_She had been running down the corridors, small dagger now drawn into one hand as she ran.  
>"You can't come with me." She said furiously over her shoulder.<br>"Wait! Why are you running?" He called back. "I need to know who you are!"  
>"Alistair." She paused, stopping to shake her head. "I...you were put on the throne for good reason. You will lose all respect if you follow me now! No-one will understand, and those who might understand – like the Chantry, will hunt us both down and kill me as maleficarum and you as an accomplice. You were a Templar, you know this!"<br>"What...you are a mage?" Alistair looked stared  
>"No, but that won't stop them from calling it blood magic, love. I have to go now. " She blew a quick kiss, and just like that, was gone. <em>

The dreams had made no sense to him. Who was this woman? Why would she be killed as maleficarum? Why did she call him love? And why did he want to follow her... He punched the wall in frustration. Nothing made sense anymore. If someone could make a way out, he would take it.


	3. Chapter 3

She closed her eyes tight, her reluctance to hurt her hound set in. She heard herself clank to the floor before she felt it. In fact, she didn't feel herself... flinging her eyes open, she realised that indeed, she was still standing. It was Ser Gilmore that was flat on the floor, hound atop him. It was his armour that had clanked to the ground.  
>"Oh...pup" She whispered quietly. The room was silent enough to hear a dust mote settle on the floor. The Mabari's hackles were up, his teeth bared and growling. After a moment, he clambered off the knight and sat promptly down at Elissa's feet, his stump of a tail flinging rapidly from side to side. Elissa knelt down, embracing her hound.<br>"Oh I've missed you pup. She kissed his head and ruffled his fur. "Thank the Maker you recognised me." She whispered. She glared at Ser Gilmore for a moment.  
>"You did tell me yourself didn't you, right before we fought those rats, that Mabari hounds were smart enough not to talk. Guess that is what you get for not listening." She turned back to her Mabari, picking up Gilmore's sword as she stood.<br>"Good boy! See all those pork bits? They are **all** for you my pup." She stood, giving a deathly glare to Fergus and Gilmore  
>"No-one has ever managed to kill me that easily Fergus." She folded her arms again. "You should know that better than anyone."<br>Gilmore slowly stood to his feet, staring at Elissa with a look of disbelief.  
>"I did say that." He said slowly. "But what was the last thing I said to you before you vanished out of the castle?"<br>"I was with my mother" She retorted. "You held the gates for us...though I did believe it would be at the cost of your life." She whispered. "You said...Maker watch over us all." Gilmore was silent then, shaking his head.  
>"She tells the truth, Teryn" He all but whispered. Elissa held her head her higher, staring Fergus back in the eye.<br>"Accompany her to a guest room. Guard her at all times. I do not have time right now to sort this mess." Fergus rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "Guard her...she is not to leave, or to be seen by the King at any cost. He turned then, staring up at the portrait of their mother.  
>"Pup, come." Elissa ordered. Without hesitation, her hound marched at her side as Ser Gilmore ushered her out of the hall.<br>"Oh, and Fergus?" She called over her shoulder. "I hope you had fun marching in the rain and the cold."

Ser Gilmore had refused to speak to her. At first he had tried to speak, but the words seemed lost. Elissa stopped abruptly, turning towards the courtyard.  
>"Spar with me."<br>"Your pardon?" Ser Gilmore spat.  
>"I want to test my theory out. "She repeated, shaking her head. "Spar with me."<br>"I have direct orders to take you to your chambers" he repeated.  
>"Ser Gilmore, Teryn Bryce Cousland assigned your services to me, not Fergus. I, am ordering you to escort me to the courtyard, and spar with me. Now, whose orders will you follow?" She repeated.<br>Gilmore paled, looking her in the eyes.  
>"I cannot disobey the Teryn, my lady." He repeated sadly.<br>"Then you'll have to catch me" she laughed. Without a second to lose, she took off, her hound bounding along behind her.  
>"By the Maker...not this again." He muttered.<p>

* * *

><p>Fergus sat next to the fire, chewing on what remained of his fingernails. He was sure she was dead. Her closest friends had seen her demise. Then again, one of her closest friends was, according to Alistair, the witch of the wilds. Did she have something to do with her body refusing to burn? Or was it a sign from the Maker, if he even existed, that she was still alive. Maker, the situation was too complicated. If it wasn't her, then how did she know what her last words with Ser Gilmore and himself were? Damn the Maker. He needed to talk to her, but King Alistair was due to meet him any moment now. Would Alistair be able to recognise her? Or would that add injury to insult? No. He couldn't tell Alistair. If she was truly an imposter, then she was at great risk at being called a blood mage. It was all too unreal to act hastily now.<p>

A solid knock on the door broke him out of his conundrum. Alistair strode in, accompanied by a single guard, to the cold stone Elissa's apparent body lay upon. He barely acknowledged Fergus, reaching down to touch her hands. He paused then, panic written across his face.  
>"Where is her rose? What are these?" He pulled the fresh bouquet out of her limp hands, tossing it to the ground.<br>"Her what?" Fergus asked "She was holding them."  
>"No." Alistair shook his head. "She had a rose...I picked for her in Lothering. These were fresh roses. The rose she had was...older." He admitted.<br>"Maybe someone changed it for a fresh one?" Fergus offered. "Perhaps...they thought she should have a fresh bouquet?" Alistair shook his head furiously.  
>"No. Lourel?" He turned to his guard. "Go find out the guards who were guarding her body before she was transferred. Find out what happened and return immediately. He sighed, replacing Elissa's cold hands back into their pose on her chest.<br>"Maker...I am so sorry I didn't take the final blow." He whispered.  
>"Nay" Fergus whispered. "If I knew her like you did...she wouldn't have let you take that blow."<br>Alistair chuckled softly. "She didn't. She refused to let me past the city gates. I was hurt...I didn't realise what she was doing until far too late. "  
>"She was always stubborn." Fergus smiled. "Eventually, our Father gave in to her wild demands. The other Arl's warned him over and over that he was being too permissive with her. Father didn't mind... after all, she was the spitting image of her mother, and her mother had been exactly the same." Alistair smiled back.<br>"I would wish the world away to see that." He said softly.  
>They sat in silence in time before Lourel, the guard, came bustling in.<br>"I found out what happened, your highness." The guard lowered one knee, bowing to Alistair before he motioned for her to stand. "A young woman with fiery red hair came in right before your Coronation. She insisted you had ordered a fresh bouquet. The woman left again abruptly with the rose." Alistair was silent for a moment, his face draining of colour.  
>"Tell me again...how did they describe her?" He asked, his voice rising in volume.<br>"She was dressed in leather armour. She was wielding two swords. She had fiery red hair. Perhaps in her early twentieth year? That's all they could tell me."  
>Fergus froze on the spot, opening his mouth. Could that have been Elissa? He wouldn't have put it past her.<p>

"There...was a woman... in Ser Gilmore's company that matches that description. Ser Lourel, perhaps you should approach her. I believe Ser Gilmore has her in one of the guest chambers under my watch." He said softly.

"No." Alistair said furiously. "I will go. Alone."  
>"But your highness..." Lourel fumbled. "She may be armed and dangerous" The knight looked flustered for a moment.<br>"I can take care of myself." Alistair muttered. Fergus stood there, dumfounded.  
>"Your Highness...at least let me accompany..."<br>"No." Alistair finished. "This is a direct order. I am to go alone." With a turn of his heel, he half ran out of the room.

Unfortunately for Alistair, all of the guest rooms were empty. Frowning, he walked down past the atrium.  
>"Looking for something, your highness?" A guard offered.<br>"A knight by the name of Ser Gilmour." Alistair sighed. "And a woman with fire red hair." He frowned. At this rate, she would be long gone.  
>"Oh, that way." The guard pointed down to the courtyard. "She wanted him to spar with her, said a few odd things, then took off towards the courtyard. "<br>"Right...spar." Alistair nodded. He didn't walk to the courtyard. Alistair ran.

Sure enough, there she was, absolutely plastered in sweat with two long daggers at her ready. She looked exhausted...but she was moving like fluid. The knight seemed completely incapable of keeping up with her, but she seemed gracious enough to allow him the attempt. Her red hair was unkempt and full of curls. The curls were tied together tightly behind her head, a rose – that rose – carefully tied into the red curls. He felt his heart flip. The Mabari...her Mabari was lazily lying to the side, watching her move, his stump of a tail swinging side to side.  
>They moved the same.<p>

Alistair snatched a sword and shield from the armour racks, approaching the duelling couple.  
>"May have this dance?" He joked. She froze then as Gilmore backed away, lowering her daggers. He saw the fear in her eyes, the unfamiliar green eyes piercing his.<br>"As you wish...Ali...your highness" she finished. Carefully, she returned to a defensive pose, motioning him to make the first move. As they parried and feinted, he could see parts of Leliana's style...Zevran's...and mostly, hers. She moved the same, in safe, curving arcs. They looked none alike, but she still moved the same, much like a dignified zombie.  
>"What is your name?" He asked.<br>"I can't tell you" She replied between breaths. "I really can't."  
>"Then tell me why you have a rose that belongs to the love of my life." He retorted.<br>She took that opportunity to disarm him, his sword scattering across the courtyard. A few guards raised their brow, although Elissa did nothing but to sheath the two daggers.  
>"It didn't belong in the grave." She retorted back. "Nor was it to burn...although truth be told, I don't understand why it didn't" she whispered.<br>"How did you know that." He asked. "What do you know about her body? Why didn't it burn?"  
>"Very little, I'm afraid." She said quietly. "I'm lost in the dark, much like you are." Without hesitation, she undid her hair, carefully passing the rose to Alistair.<br>"If you insist...I will give it back to you. Now...if you don't mind, I have direct orders to be locked in my room, apparently." She turned away, the red curls tumbling down her back. Alistair stood there, feeling fixed to the spot as she took off down the hallway, Ser Gilmore trailing hopelessly behind her.


End file.
